


Under the Water

by NoneOfThisWorld



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Bo-Katan mentioned, Cara has funny feelings, Din trying to relax, Exposed skin, Family Dynamics, Fluff, Light Sexual Tension, Suggestive Themes, Trying to Forget, a hot bath, accidental face reveal, tipsy Din, too much to drink, trying to unwind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27639767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoneOfThisWorld/pseuds/NoneOfThisWorld
Summary: Din and the kid make a stop at Tatoonie and run into a friend. Cara wants to help Din relax and knows what helps her best when she needs to unwind.
Relationships: Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV) & Din Djarin, Din Djarin & Cara Dune
Comments: 2
Kudos: 69





	Under the Water

**Author's Note:**

> Some spoilers for chapter 11 if you haven't seen the episode yet of the Mandalorian.

The Razer Crest, unsurprisingly, didn’t last very long after they left Trask. Thankfully it held together long enough to make it back to Tatooine, but just barely. Peli, of course, was more than happy to work on his ship again, not to mention get a chance to see the kid.

After diagnosing what needed to be done, Din found out his ship was in worse shape than it had been in when he initially landed in Trask. Held together with fishing string and nets, he wasn’t the least bit surprised, but unfortunately that meant he’d be stuck in Tatooine longer than he had hoped. There always seemed to be something that held him back on his quests and often more than not, it seemed to be his ship. Especially as of late. He’d considered upgrading to a newer model several times, but there was something about the Razer Crest that he knew he wouldn’t find in any other ship. They’d been through a lot.

Leaving his ship in Peli and her droids capable hands, Din and the kid ventured out around Tatooine. Maybe they could find some on world work while they waited. He didn't, however, expect to run into a familiar face.

Cara had arrived a few weeks back, dropped off her bounty and picked up a few more while she was there. Once again she had occupied the space that he had intended to take. Not that he was upset to see her, but he needed the credits. Perhaps they could work out a deal. If she’s here, that means she has a ship, unless she hitched a ride over. 

They catch up over soup and drinks, or rather, she and the kid have soup and she drink while they chat. “I know you eat in private, Mando, but do you ever drink?” Cara asks before taking a sip of the bright blue liquid in her cup.

“Sometimes,” he responds. “Not often.”

“I imagine you’d be a light weight then. What is it? Only on special occasions or when you just need to forget?”

“One more than the other, sometimes both,” he replied cryptically. Cara raised a brow at him, but didn’t press any further.

He, however continued on his own, “Lately I feel like there’s a few things I want to forget.”

Cara glanced at the kid, who was happily slurping broth from the tiny wooden spoon he was provided with. Looking back to the Mandalorian, she found him looking as well. “Did something happen to the kid?” she asked.

“Not exactly,” he replied. “But I found out something that I’m not sure is true or not and I’m not sure what to think if it is.” He directed his attention back to the ex-shock trooper, who watched him patently, waiting for him to continue. “I ran into other Mandalorian,” he begins. “Other Mandalorian who remove their helmets as they please.” He lets out a frustrated sigh, “I’ll explain more later, just finish your meal and we can find somewhere more private.”

Cara nods, “I’ve got a room at an Inn nearby. You’re more than welcome to relax there and unwind if you’d like. I’m sure you could use the rest and we can chat more privately there.”

Their conversation returns to small talk, while the two finish their meal. Cara picks up the tab then buys an entire bottle of whatever she had been drinking. Din suspects it’s for her own stash until she thrusts it into his hands. He doesn’t have time to question it as she swiftly leads the way out of the cantina and down the road to the Inn she’s staying in. 

Din is quick to tuck the child back into the pouch that hangs at his hip and awkwardly holds the bottle in one hand as he falls in step beside Cara. As she said, it’s not far from the cantina. Her room is tucked towards the back, but it’s a corner spot, giving her a good view of her surroundings at least a bit more than one of the side rooms.

Once inside, Din sets the bottle onto a nearby coffee table and then sets the kid on the bed. He and Cara sit down at the small two seater table off to the side as he discusses what he had learned from the Mandalorian named Bo-Katan. Her accusation of his clan being that of  _ a cult of religious zealots that broke away from Mandalorian society.  _ That their goal was to reestablish the ancient way. He wants to believe that it isn’t true. That she was lying to him, but perhaps his own people were the ones who were lying.

He goes back and forth between how he feels about what he’s learned, but it’s clear he’s trying to hold out hope that this Mandalorian is the one who is confused and misled. It’s a stubborn thought, but Cara doesn’t interject. This isn’t her place to put in her thoughts on the subject. Hell, she really doesn’t know all that much about Mandalorian herself, aside from whispers and whatever she’s picked up from Din.

Knowing his true name is still weird to her. Like forbidden text that she caught a glimpse of by mistake. She briefly wonders if she saw his face, would the name stick or would it still feel taboo? She hadn’t thought so much about him since he left to continue his mission. Maybe the occasional question as to whether he was doing well on his quest, if he’s okay and how the kid was doing, but not much more. Now that he’s back, however…

She cuts the thought from her mind before it can go any further. She wants to concentrate on what he’s telling her. He’s having an existential crisis and really needs someone to talk to. Traveling on your own for so long can have quite the impact. Technically he’s not alone, but most of his conversations with the kid are pretty one sided. She couldn’t imagine what it must be like. 

Cara rises from her seat, crosses the room and opens a cabinet and grabs a glass. On her way back to the table, she picks up the bottle from the coffee table and sets both in front of him, “Sounds like you need to unwind.” She hears him begin to object, then she cuts in again, “You can use my ‘fresher. Take a soak or a shower, have a drink or two and just try to wash things away.”

He looks at her, then the bottle, then back to her, “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”

She shook her head, “Look, you’re here for a while and you can crash here with me if you need to. Besides, you kinda smell. I wasn’t going to say anything before, cause we’re friends.” 

A sort of chuckle sounds from his helmet and he nods, “Fair enough,” he rises from his seat, grabbing the bottle and glass, then as if suddenly remembering, looks at the kid.

“I’ll watch him,” she promises. “Also, if you want, if you leave your stuff outside the door, I can see what I can do to clean them while you bathe. Or at least freshen them up a bit. There’s no sense cleaning yourself if your suit is dirty.”

Another nod, “Thanks Cara.”

When he disappears into the refresher, Cara tries to busy herself with keeping the kid entertained while they wait for Din to freshen up. She is chatting with the kid who seems to be responding in what sounds like could be considered a language, or it could be his form of baby babble, when she hears the door open. Part of her wants to look, curiosity tugging on her mind, but she fights it off. The door closes once more and she finally lets herself look.

There’s a large mound of fabric and beskar kind of jumbled on the floor with his helmet on top. It’s bizarre to see what she can only think of as a deflated Mandalorian, piled on the ground. In her mind, this was Din’s entirety, piled up like dirty laundry. The image of a skinned animal crosses her mind and she pushes the thought aside. 

She rises from the bed, setting the kid down and moves pick up the heap off the floor, “Think we can get these cleaned up for your papa?” she asks looking at the kid who looks back quizzically. She can’t fight the need to smell the bundle in her arms, then instantly regrets it. “Pew!” she groans.

“Cara?” comes a voice from behind the door.

It takes her several heartbeats to recognize the voice as Din. Without the helmet he sounds so different. Despite being muffled behind the door, she feels put off by the sound and she’s not sure why, “What’s up?”

“Do you have a spare shaver?”

He has a beard? It's a dumb thought, but she pushes it aside as she tries to remember if she did or not. “Yeah, uh, in my toiletry bag stowed in the cabinet under the sink. I think I have another one or two in there.” She listens as he ruffles around in the bag and a soft, “got it,” can be heard through the door. “Okay, good. I’m gonna take these down the hall, with the kid and clean them for you. You just try to relax a bit, okay?”

There’s a brief pause and she isn’t certain he’s going to respond, until he finally does, “Thanks again,” he says softly.

He’s right up beside the door, listening to her as she shifts and leaves. There’s some shuffling and she’s either picked up the kid as well or is just struggling to carry all his stuff. He waits until he hears the door close behind them before he lets himself actually relax a bit.

Turning back towards the mirror, he stares at his reflection. It’s not often he sees himself without his armor, but when he does, he never fully recognizes himself. He feels like an observer in a dream, watching the universe through someone else's eyes.

He runs a hand over the patchy hair on his jaw, almost thankful that he’d never seemed to be able to grow a full beard. His lack of facial hair made it easier to go longer periods of time without needing to shave. Considering he was bathing, now was as good a time as ever. Not having much else to use, he lathered up some soap onto his face, avoiding making eye contact with his reflection, then began work on cleaning up his face. Soap wasn’t the best thing to use and he’d most likely end up with razor burn, not that anyone would see. It would be uncomfortable for the next few days, but maybe soaking in the tub will help with the irritation on his skin.

Once he was satisfied enough with the shave and the tub was full, he brought the bottle and glass over and set them down beside it. Wasting little time, he stepped into the steaming hot water which felt like heaven against his skin. Showers in the Razer Crest were often cold and short. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a nice hot soak, but Cara was right. This was what he needed. 

Pouring himself a glass, he sunk further down in the tub, letting the heat envelope his body and did his best to forget. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been soaking or how many drinks he’d had, but at some point he must have drifted off. The sudden overwhelming feeling of being watched snapped him out of his slumber. The water had gone cold and his skin felt pruny, but that was the least of his worries. The feeling of being watched still was prominent in the air. He looks around the ‘fresher, but sees nothing that wasn’t already there. That is until he looks down.

There, staring back at him with wide eyes, stood the child. He looked terrified, but too scared to move. It quickly occurred to him that the kid had never seen him outside of his beskar and probably didn’t recognize him. He didn’t have time to dwell on the fact that the first since he first dawned the armor, a living creature has seen his face. 

The moment he shifted in the tub, the kid let out a shrill scream and ran out of the room. Panic filled him as he pulled himself from the tub, practically stumbling on his way out. Taking note of the half empty body, he cursed under his breath. Grabbing a towel, he’d just reached the door when the entire building began to shake. He didn’t have a lot of time to think, not that he could, considering how cloudy his mind was, but he needed to do something.

Cara could be heard on the other side of the door, working to calm the kid, but she wasn’t even sure what cause the sudden outburst. Din opened the door just enough to stick his arm out, “Cara, give me my helmet!”

Without a question, she moved to hand him his helmet. If she had time, she’d take a moment to take in the exposed skin of the Mandalorian, another encroachment of privacy, but she’d dwell on that later. His hand slipped back behind the door and much to her surprise, he stepped out and brushed past her. Had she had the time, she’d even consider exploring the strange feeling of seeing him in nothing by his helmet and towel, dripping wet. She might trace every scar on his back and memorize every mole and freckle in his slightly tanned, yet pale skin. If she had the time.

“What happened?” she managed to ask, keeping her voice calm.

Din slowly approached the kid who was hiding in the corner and carefully knelt in front of him, “He saw me without my helmet and I guess I scared him.”

“Jeez, what are you hiding under there?” she half joked, but now her curiosity was piqued.

He ignored her question, focusing on the kid, “Hey,” came a soft tone through the voice modulator. “Kid, it’s me.”

Slowly, the small boy peeked through his fingers, the familiar voice of the Mandalorian seeping through the fear. The first thing he saw was the shinny beskar helmet staring back at him. As he stared back at the man, recognition seemed to cross the little one’s face. As his fear seemed to dissipate, the building slowly stopped shaking until it stopped all together. 

Hesitantly, the kid approached him then reached out a timid hand. He muttered something, seemingly to himself. Din still wasn’t sure if he was actually saying anything at all, but simply nodded, “It’s me,” he reassured. “Now you know.”

The kid closed the distance and hugged Din’s knee, rubbing his face on the cheap towel and Din let out a sigh. Rising to his feet, he picked the kid up with him and debated momentarily on whether to hold him close or set him on one of the beds. Skin to skin contact was still weird enough for him as it was and the longer he stood out in the room practically naked, the more uncomfortable he grew. 

Setting the kid on one of the beds, he turned his attention towards Cara, who was watching him with a look on her face that he didn’t immediately recognize. “Mind telling me how he get in there in the first place.”

“I swear, I was watching him. I looked away for a second as I fished around for something to feed him and he dipped in when I had my back turned. He must have been trying to figure out what you were doing in there. Din, I’m so sorry,” she assured him. A heart beat. She used his name. She fucked up twice.

The use of his name gave him pause. Even after learning his name, she’d never used it, or hardly did as far as he could remember. Typically she called him Mando and sometimes bud. Never has she called him Din. 

He knows she’s sorry and if he was being honest, the kid has given him the slip several times as well. He’s a slippery little womp rat. He can’t fault her too much. Another long sigh. So much for a nice relaxing bath. “It’s okay,” he said softly. “I did a lot of thinking while I was in there. What those other Mandalorian said to me. Maybe they’re right. Maybe it’s time I let go of the old ways.” 

As he said that, he reached for his helmet and Cara didn’t need the situation spelled out for her. Acting quickly, she closed the distance between the two of them and quickly gripped his hands, effectively keeping the helmet in place. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”

The feeling of her skin against his own made him flinch, then instantly freeze. Her skin was warm against his own and he never realized how much he both longed for the touch of another and felt so much anxiety that he was certain he was going to crumble at any second.

She took his silence as an invite to continue, “Don’t throw your faith away for something one person said to you. If the day comes when you really wish to take off the helmet, then do it with someone who matters.”

“You do matter,” he cut in while he slowly let go of the helmet, “but you’re right. I shouldn’t act on the heat of the moment. I think I drank too much. Everything is kind of cloudy in my mind right now.”

_ You do matter _ . His words echoed in her ears, but now was not the time to dwell on such things. Besides, he could just mean that in a  _ you’re one of few people I can entrust to work at my side and watch the kid,  _ kind of way. She could question him, but instead she asks, “How much did you drink?”

He hums to himself, “Half the bottle I think.”

“Kriff, Mando, thirsty?” Cara taunted.

“I had a lot to forget,” he retorted. “Back to Mando, huh?”

She was trying her hardest to keep here eyes on the helmet, now that they were so close, but there was this one particular droplet that caught her attention as it dripped down the middle of his bare chest and down towards a path of dark hair that peaked above the top of his towel. Clearing her throat she looked back at the helmet, which seemed to be giving her a bemused look, if she could only guess, “I don’t know, it never felt right for me to say. You never personally told me your name, so it felt wrong knowing it through someone else who only planned on using it maliciously.”

“You can call me Din, if you’d like. Only in private of course,” he quickly added.

“Are you sure? Doesn’t that go against your creed or something?”

He shrugs, “Not like you didn’t already know it. Besides, you’re my friend. I trust you.”

Friend, huh? Not that she hadn't just called him the same thing earlier. Well, it’s better than a partner, she supposes. “Okay, Din. Can you put your clothes back on now?”

He looks down, then to the clean suit and beskar spread out on one of the beds almost as if she had expected him to change out there, or perhaps she was trying to keep it from wrinkling. Regardless, he remembers how naked he is, then quickly gathers his stuff, “Right,” he says. Without another word, he ducks back into the ‘fresher and quickly dresses.

Cara puts a hand on her chest and lets out a hiss. “Damn.”

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry if there are some lore inconsistencies in the story. I tried my best looking things up I wasn't sure of. So something like him thinking his skin is pruny, without knowing what was comparable to that in the Star Wars universe, I left it in. Any suggestions for alterations will be helpful, but I hope you all enjoy this little idea I had regardless.


End file.
